A Northern Interlude I

Here I am in the unlikely destination of Hull for the British Shakespeare Association Conference, preparing to pretend to have a clue what these academics are on about. Later today I will have to regiser my preferences among the various optional panels. I am going to adopt a policy of choosing seminars whose titles comprise only words I don't have to look up. I may struggle. Word of the week - obscurantism.

Faded glories

I am staying in the slightly faded glory of the Royal Hotel. I couldn't get the television to work yesterday and I couldn't work out the coffee machine at breakfast. Assistance has been forthcoming so life goes on.

A first wander around the city centre was a tad depressing - a blur of flab, tattoos and a Greggs on every corner. But everywhere (well almost) has these areas, indeed some have nothing else. My tea time peregrinations were therefore a relief as I idled through the Old Town and the Marina. Much better. There is a lot of work being done, presumably in anticipation of the city's imminent year as City of Culture.

Must go now and steel myself for the intellectul rigours ahead. First up: 'Wheel of Fire: memory, mourning and the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre'; and then, 'Music, Theatre and Nationhood'. What have I let myself in for? Should I seek out a nice pub (did the groundwork last night) and hide away with a good book? No, Dave you've got to get out there and test your limits. Report to follow.